Page 10 of Trig

Carmen walks out of the room with the other girl in hand, leaving me standing there. I can hear him laughing and telling a few men to go look at the mess I made. The room starts to spin and my heart is now banging against my chest. A cleaning crew of three men walk in, look at me and then down at the dead girl. One bends down to grab her.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” I snap.

The man squints at me and then slowly backs up.

“You wanna move this trash, go ahead. Be my guest.” He gestures with his hand out.

I bend down, toss the girl over my shoulder, and begin my trudge down the now busy hallway. A trail of her blood drips behind me, and the party attendees are looking at me as if I killed her. They part ways to let me pass. I glance up as I reach the exit door and Carmen catches my eye. He’s leaning against the upstairs rail, drink in hand as if nothing happened. The other girl is missing and I’m sure she won’t survive the night after what she’s seen. He grins and nods his head to me. I ignore him and quickly exit, making my way down the path to the men from earlier.

“I thought you were off duty. I didn’t know you were here for a contract,” one jokes.

I adjust the weight of her body as I move past them.

“You don’t want your weapons?”

“Keep ‘em. They’re yours anyway. Plus I won’t be back here. Ever.”

The men snicker as I walk away. I approach the car, pop open the trunk, and lay her inside. Two thoughts run through my mind as I stare down at her. One. I now have to go bury this poor young girl who is dead on my account. Two. She is filled with my DNA, and because of that, her body must never be found.

***

It’s late at night by the time I get back in town. I’m fried. The last kill contract, Carmen’s mind games, the dead girl, thoughts of future fuckery here in Fiji, and let’s not forget the two ten-hour flights in less than forty-eight hours that are causing me major burnout. I open the front door to see Nine sprawled out on the couch sleeping. Worry sets in when I see the room. It looks like she’s been doing more than a little investigating. She has paperwork spread out on the coffee table and all over the floor, and by the look of it she’s been at it since yesterday morning. I close the door as quietly as I can, but the sound of the lock clicking wakes her.

“Are you cheating on me?” she asks, as she sits up.

I’m not mentally prepared to deal with this after what just happened in Vegas. Last night wasn’t an affair. I literally had a gun to my head. It was a forced event. What do I even say at this point? How do I let that roll off the tongue without consequence? I want to come clean. This dishonesty between us is wrong. If circumstances were reversed, I’d want to know. I mean, I’m not saying I wouldn’t lose my shit, but I’d definitely want to know.

I entertain the idea of telling her the truth. I’d say that Carmen tracked us down from the damn bank video. I’d let her know that I’ve been doing contracts in Vegas again, because Carmen is a petty little bitch who wants to torture me for messing up the delicate drug ecosystem. I’d add that he could just kill me but instead he wants to play the whole ‘I will ruin everything you love’ game. I want to look into her eyes, kiss her, and tell her that I’m doing this all for her and Mya, but I can’t. At this point, it would sound ridiculous.

“I don’t want to have this conversation with Mya here.”

“Well, good thing she’s spending the night at her friend’s house. Now, answer the damn question.”

“Baby, look.”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I can’t take this anymore.”

She stands up, marches over, and starts inspecting me. I can barely look her in the eye.

“Who is she?” she asks, as she crosses her arms. Her lips are trembling.

“I’m not fucking around on you,” I respond.

She keeps looking at me as if she already knows something but is just waiting for me to say it.

“If you’re not messing around, then what the fuck is that?” She points to my neck. “You have a lipstick smudge right there. Who is she?”

Memories of last night flood in. After burying yet another secret, I went to my hotel room, washed the blood off my hands and face in the sink, changed clothes, and passed out for a bit. I jumped on the first plane home I could get, which was only a few hours later. At none of that time did I notice a lipstick stain on my neck. The urge to chain-smoke a whole carton of cigarettes kick in.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I knew it. You piece of shit. I’m here with you trying to live a normal life and be a good person. I’m still adjusting and learning how to do that, and you know. You know what I’ve been through and you want to do this to me.”

I just stand there unsure of what to say. I can’t tell her anything, because the moment she knows, she’ll want to save the day and fight back, or maybe even run, and there is no escaping Carmen. The new world operates with a camera lens attached, and thanks to social media you can no longer hide for very long. He found us once and he’ll find us again, and for that reason, we cannot run this time.

I lick my dry lips and stare at her. I can see her hands shaking, and as hard as this is, I have to let this play out. She starts to tear up. My silence is driving her pain. She quickly turns for the lamp and then yanks the cord out of the wall and throws it, just missing me. She starts grabbing random items off the table. First the remote, then her cell phone, and then a vase, and she just starts hurling them at me. I rush over and grab her. She’s fucking livid. She’s pushing me away, crying, and thrashing in my grip.

“Listen to me. I would never hurt you.”

---